


The Death of a Saviour

by Shalott45 (Medraut)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dystopia, F/M, Love, M/M, Murder, Non-Canonical Character Death, POV Narcissa Black Malfoy, Reminiscing, Suicide, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7379842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medraut/pseuds/Shalott45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I knew the exact moment Harry realised that he was not going to win, or even escape, this time. The crestfallen, yet determined way he met the eyes of the Dark Lord, almost as a silent challenge."</p>
<p>Narcissa's story of Harry's death and what became of the world after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Death of a Saviour

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic of mine, written two years ago, that was previously posted on ff under this pseud. I haven't changed anything, only corrected some spelling that apparently got away from me. If you like tragedies, you'll hopefully like this, but if you don't it's probably time to turn away haha.
> 
> I suppose I should say 'enjoy', but I kind of wrote this to break hearts, which is most likely not all that enjoyable.  
> ______________________

Wouldn't it just be wonderful if I could tell you that Harry Potter made it through the final battle? That after Harry, along with The Order of the Phoenix, broke into the Dark Lord's headquarters, he faced off with the Dark Lord and won? I'd love to say that, and mean it, but the truth is that when Harry finally stood against our Lord, he was completely on his own. 

There were too many Death Eaters in the headquarters and the members of The Order were dead before Harry had a chance to even remotely take in the situation. I remember standing there, beside Draco, and watching as all the others killed. I remember Harry Potter looking into my master's eyes one last time before he himself died. All I could do was hold back Draco, preventing him from sacrificing himself, as a look of comprehension ghosted over Harry's face. 

I knew the exact moment Harry realised that he was not going to win, or even escape, this time. The crestfallen, yet determined way he met the eyes of the Dark Lord, almost as a silent challenge spoke volumes. Draco was crying silently next to me, luckily hidden under his white mask, when the Dark Lord said those last two words that would change the world as we knew it. To think that two small words, so close to those said in Muggle fairy tales, can have such a great effect and such dire consequences scares me immensely. As we stood there, I saw Harry's eyes widen slightly when he heard it. His gaze sought out Draco in the midst of all us Death Eaters and a silent apology accompanied by sincere regret was communicated through those green eyes. When Draco understood that Harry could do nothing to stop it, his hands fisted tightly in my robes and he leant his entire weight on me. He started shaking with quiet sobs despite being told all his life never to show weakness and if I had been able to, I would have hugged him close to me like he was five all over again, but the circumstances wouldn't allow such displays of affection, least of all for Harry. 

As Harry fell to the ground, his body lifeless and his eyes without their characteristic intensity, it was as if we all became painfully aware that we had picked the wrong side in the end. The winning side, yes, but not the right side. The only sound to fill the room was the victorious laughter of my Master, chilling each of us to the bone. It is the single most terrible sound I have ever heard and it was neither the first nor the last time I was to hear it. When the Dark Lord went over to Harry's corpse to make sure he was dead, I felt a small spark of hope that Harry could have survived the Killing Curse again. What if? I thought. What if Harry has managed to survive the Killing Curse a second time? What if he, somehow, managed to shield himself just before the green light hit him? But he hadn't. And with that revelation, I felt all the blood leave my face. Harry really was dead. What would life come to without the Chosen One? 

It had all been a mistake. A huge, horrible, gut-churning mistake. We shouldn't have followed the Dark Lord. We should have known better than to let such a sick and twisted man gain power and control over us. But there was nothing we could do. Our only way to be free - the only way the world could have been saved - had been murdered in front of our very own eyes and now there seemed to be no one powerful enough to stand against the Dark Lord. I couldn't even imagine that we would pose much of a challenge, even if we were united. So we followed his orders. We, the Death Eaters, killed millions, if not billions, of Muggles and enslaved anyone with magical blood who dared to cross us. All magical creatures were locked up, even the werewolves, much to the displeasure of Fenrir Greyback, and house elves were killed in favour of our new slaves. 

To remind us of our rightful places, Harry Potter's body was marked with His mark, charmed to never decompose, and hung on display for all to see. The Fallen Saviour. The message was clear; no one can help you now. Intimidation and threats, that's the way of the Dark Lord. He spreads chaos just for the sake of chaos and takes joy only in other's misery. And he preaches things he can't live up to himself, such as purity of blood even though he is a half-blood. I didn't know until Draco wrote me a letter from Hogwarts. 

One week before that fateful day, I got a letter in which he pleaded with me to switch side. Among other things, he told me about the real bloodstatus of our Lord. I could scarcely believe it, but he had been told by Harry Potter and I didn't see a reason for Harry to lie. I didn't know a lot about Harry, but he was not the type to deceive those who fought for him - or anyone else for that matter. In Draco's letter, there were brief mentions of Harry that could only mean he was in love. Fearing for Draco's life if the letter should fall into the wrong hands, I burned it and answered him with nothing more than a time and place to meet. He did show up as instructed, hand in hand with Harry, and they explained together how they had gone from enemies to lovers. I wasn't sure, based on the letter, that my conclusion had been correct, but seeing it, there was no way to deny it. After seven years of animosity, these two boys had suddenly noticed each other in a completely different way. At first, it had been shy glances in class and in the corridors, but then it had turned into secret meetings and passionate kisses exchanged in the dark of the night. Soon, they were both lost to the sweet spell of love and even knowing that Draco bore the mark of a mad man on his arm, they both believed that everything would be alright. 

As a mother, I was both happy and fearful for Draco. To see him with that light in his eyes, that undeniable life he radiated, was pure bliss. For many years, I had been afraid that Lucius’s hard treatment would turn our son into a cold shell of a man, yet there he was, head-over-heels in love with the one who should be his enemy. I hugged them both and congratulated them, wishing them all the joy in the world. However, my fear made me ask them to keep their relationship secret until the war was over. I said to Draco that it was not the time to switch loyalties and I begged him to be very careful. Harry and Draco complied, simply happy that I was not disgusted with Draco's preferences. They made a promise to each other right then that they would get married when things had calmed down. I was delighted, of course. My son, married! I was already planning the wedding the same night. But then everything was ruined when we had to watch Harry die. 

Every day since the Dark Lord won, we were forced to walk by Harry's dead body and lie to save ourselves. It became too much for Draco eventually. Every week, he grew more and more agitated. He lost weight and his face became permanently twisted into a grimace. Being who he was, Draco refused to talk to me or Lucius about anything. Small-talk was all we could get out of him, and even that was very far between. Perhaps he was too proud, perhaps he was simply broken, but he would not let us in. Lucius yelled at him, he lost the emotionless mask he had worn as long as I knew him, and he grabbed Draco's shoulders and shook him, did anything to try to get through to our son. But it was in vain.  
At night, when we went to bed, Lucius cried on my shoulder when his attempts to talk to Draco failed. I saw my husband slowly lose all his earlier values. All he cared about was Draco and we both agreed that the new world was not anything like we had expected. Both my boys needed me more and more and I felt like I needed to be strong because no one else was. Between torturing muggles and blood-traitors, watching new people join the ranks of Death Eaters, and taking care of my family to the best of my ability, I had very little time to think. I would lie awake far into the early hours of morning and only fall asleep at the time Draco got up. I worried a lot, mostly about my dear son, and at the same time I had a strange feeling that something horrible was soon to happen. 

Then came the worst morning of my existence. The worst moment of my entire life. I had not slept at all that night and even when the clock turned four and Draco would have gotten up, I didn't hear a sound from his room. Finally, after some contemplation, I went to wake up Draco since he had still not woken on his own. When I entered his bedroom, I was met by the sight of my son's lifeless body. Blue lips and unusually pale complexion told me that he was not merely asleep. My heart broke right then and there and I fell to my knees besides his bed, dragging him into my arms all the while screaming his name. It couldn't be. I yelled at him, scolded him for leaving me and my husband behind, pleaded with him to wake up and repeated no no no until I was hoarse. I sobbed until no tears were forthcoming and commanded him to stop playing around. Lucius entered sometime during my breakdown and he, too, cried whilst holding me to him. We sat there for I don't know how long, mourning our son in what turned into a silence only broken by occasional whimpers. My beautiful, brilliant son had killed himself. He was gone forever. And there was nothing I could do. I felt helpless. Lucius blamed himself for treating Draco harshly and for not getting him to talk even though he’d tried. I blamed myself for not being the best mother I could have been, for not being affectionate enough, even though I knew I couldn't change the past. If I had had a time turner, I would have gone back in time in an instant, even if going that far back would kill me. As long as my son would live, I couldn't care less about my own life. 

Later, I found a note on Draco's desk that said 'I'll see you soon, Harry'. My son's last words were dedicated to the person he loved and now that three years have passed, I can feel proud that he became a man with such a strong faith in love. 

When the Dark Lord heard of our son's suicide, he denied us the privilege of burying him and instead fed his body to that disgusting beast of a snake. There are no words that can describe what it was like to watch my child be devoured by a monster. And when the Dark Lord laughed and made fun of my son for being weak I swore to take him down, no matter the price. 

Lucius and I started a resistance that we called 'The Dragon's Strength' as a tribute to our son. We could simply not let the deaths of Harry and Draco have been for naught. We bought as many slaves as possible and in the comfort of our home, we gave them sanctuary and gave them the option to fight with us when the time came. Along with Severus Snape, we worked to get as many Death Eaters as possible to join us and those who refused were obliviated so they would not be able to stop us. We spent all our leisure time planning our future attack and today our plan will become reality. It is not just about vengeance, it is about Lucius and I finally doing what is right and not letting fear rule us. The ambush will hopefully give people faith again, even if we should fail. If the Dark Lord doesn't fall tonight, more resistance groups will be born and he will fall in the future. 

This note is testimony to whoever finds it that even the Dark Lords most dedicated followers can change sides. It is a memento of the darkest age of the Wizarding World and, hopefully, of the group that ended it. Even if we win, we will not be returning to this place, but know this:  
We're doing this for Harry Potter, I have never met anyone more pure of heart, and Draco Malfoy, my son and one of the strongest people I've known. This battle will be for the boy who didn't give up even on the edge of death, and to honour everything he gave us when he was alive. It is for two people who found each other in a time of chaos and grief and who managed to keep believing in a better world. We're doing this for the strongest force in the universe, the weapon the Dark Lord knows not. We're doing this for love.


End file.
